


We Could Run Straight Ahead

by kikitheslayer



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, essentially a ''what if dee had friends'' au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 15:57:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14216649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikitheslayer/pseuds/kikitheslayer
Summary: Dee hasn't spoken to the Waitress, her high school BFF, in years. Imagine her surprise when she gets asked to be a bridesmaid at her wedding -- to Charlie.





	We Could Run Straight Ahead

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SunnyRarePairs2](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SunnyRarePairs2) collection. 



> Thanks for the fun prompt!

As time had marched on, years fading more and quickly into the next, Dee had let go of expectation. First, of the expectation that the world would be kind; then, fair; lastly, that it would ever make any sense at all.

Which made the shock Dee felt at the familiar voice crinkling its way through her phone even more of a surprise. To hear her again was neither kind nor fair nor made a modicum of sense, and Dee should have been over this. But even so she stood, stock-still and silent, wondering how long it would take the Waitress to realize she had dialed by mistake.

“Dee?” the Waitress asked. “Hello?”

Intentional, then.

Dee shook herself. “Girlfriend!” she replied. She tried to remember how she had talked in high school. “It’s been so long! What’s up?”

“Um, kind of a lot actually.” The Waitress’ voice was quiet and hopeful in a way Dee had thought would have been beat out of her by now. “Listen, I know this is kind of out of the blue but… I’m getting married. And I was wondering if you would like to be a bridesmaid.”

“Holy shit.” Dee tried and failed to keep the laugh out of her voice. “You really haven’t done too hot on the ol’ friends front have you?”

Dee realized the words were a mistake as soon as they came out of her mouth, stones thrown in a very glass house, but the Waitress just blustered by, her voice taking on an edge that was as familiar to Dee as its softness had been, and said, “Yes, well, I’ve been busy. Anyway, I’ve already asked Ingrid, and she said yes, so --”

“Where’s the wedding?”

The Waitress paused. “What?”

Dee shrugged, though the Waitress couldn’t see her. “I’m not shelling out a bunch of cash to fly somewhere for one party.”

This time, the Waitress’ voice was clipped short. “It’s in Philly.”

“Cool,” Dee said. “Then sure, I’ll come. Why not?”

The Waitress let out a sigh. Dee couldn’t read its tone. “Okay,” the Waitress said. “I’ll send you the details.”

“Oh, before I forget,” said Dee. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Do you remember Dirt Grub?”

\--

Dee got added to both a Google Calendar and a group chat with the rest of the tiny wedding party. Charlie’s mother dominated most of it, with Ingrid coming in second, and Dee thought privately that she would rather marry Charlie herself than engage. Still, she picked up on a few things very fast: it was a dry wedding, the groom kept proposing a litany of poor design decisions, and she had absolutely no memory of the bride-to-be’s name.

The first two were barely issues. Dee was no stranger to sneaking in her own alcohol, and she had been promised a plus one, which meant that she would be bringing Artemis, a woman who was more of a dedicated and loving wife to sneaking in her own alcohol. And it was certainly no skin off Dee’s back if Charlie kept suggesting dumb things, like a cat food bar along with the salads.

The last one, though? The last one presented a problem.

Dee couldn’t recall when the woman had quit being… whoever she had been and became the Waitress in her head. Sometime in the last 25 years, she guessed, her dumb brother’s dumb friends’ nickname had stuck.

Somehow, the Waitress’ real name wasn’t to be found on any of the wedding planning materials. Dee couldn’t find it online, either, because, well, she didn’t know her name. (And begrudgingly because she didn’t really understand the internet.) Barbara had never shelled out and bought her yearbooks, and all of her dumb brother’s had been lost in an apartment fire years earlier. 

Dee brushed off the worry. Whatever. Eventually, she would see the woman’s name in gold on some embossed invitation, and she would act like she had always known it.

\-- 

The girl who sat next to Dee in Trig had blonde hair and braces and was always turning to Dee and asking to look at her homework. Not even to copy, like a normal kid, but to check her work. 

That was how Dee knew she was a weirdo, someone it would be better to stay away from. Dee had already hit her cap on weirdos. One more and she may as well start going to school with a big, red target stamped on her back, something a lot less metaphorical than the back brace.

The Waitress had usually gotten the answers wrong, and Dee always felt a smug satisfaction watching her trying to puzzle out her mistakes in blue pen, pouring over the answers Dee had snagged from the kid to her right.

Dee lasted three weeks of the class before she had to start skipping more often than not. She took to hiding out in the girls’ bathroom in the science hall. It was the worst one in school, with no heater, no mirror, and only one stall door that actually closed. Sometimes Dee claimed it, and other times she hung out in plain view; nobody bothered her either way.

That was, until the day the Waitress found her. Dee wondered briefly if she had stalked her, felt a chill run up her spine, until she realized that the Waitress’ eyes were red and puffy, and that if you were going to cry anywhere in school, this would be it.

The Waitress stopped in the doorway, just looking at her.

Dee looked away after just a few moments, returning to the consuming business of lighting up the joint she had snuck from Mac’s bag. Her hands shook as she raised the lighter, but she managed to get it, and she was almost totally able to stifle her coughing. She looked at the wall above the Waitress’ head, and breathed out, the smoke coming out thick and slow.

Suddenly, the Waitress asked, “Can I have some?”

Dee didn’t particularly want to share, but she go the sense that if she didn’t then the other girl would leave. She nodded and passed it over.

The Waitress coughed for a long time and Dee repressed the urge to call her a pussy, as though she had been smoking for longer than a month and a half. "Hold it in your lungs after you breath in,” she instructed. “It’ll get you higher.” Dee didn’t actually know if that was true or not. It was what Dennis had told her when she had smoked for the first time in his bedroom, the sounds of her coughs covered by Frank and Barbara’s yelling in the next room. That meant that it was what Mac had told him, and Dee wasn’t sure she trusted that kid, yet. 

But the Waitress took her advice, and didn’t ask any follow-up questions, and Dee let out a quiet sigh of relief. The next time the other girl quit hacking, she said, “I’m Dee.”

The Waitress nodded. “I’m --“

And that’s where the memory cut off.

\--

Dee didn’t attend many of the events. She was a bridesmaid for the dress, the food, and the possibility of getting to give a speech in which she showcased her comedic talents. Venue hunting, chair selection, tuxedos -- all that shit could be handled by the happy couple alone. 

Dee showed up for cake tasting, though. It fell under her allowances, and given that the Waitress had apparently given up alcohol, there was no way to be sure she wouldn’t choose some awful, gluten-free, vegan thing.

Ingrid was the first to greet her, standing outside the restaurant and typing something on her phone. Dee had seen her once, a few years back, so it wasn’t the weight loss that surprised her, just the fact that she somehow still managed to look so goddamn happy.

Ingrid smiled as she approached. “Dee,” she said. “I was beginning to think I’d never see you.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Dee, laughing, “have you seriously been coming to all these things?”

Ingrid gave her a strange look. “Dee, I’m the maid of honor.”

“Wait, woah, woah.” Dee held up a hand. “She made you maid of honor? I thought we were both bridesmaids, bitch.”

Ingrid shrugged. “I guess she just knew I’d show up.”

Ingrid returned to her phone before Dee could say anything else, and instead of trying she just pushed her way inside. Charlie was walking around the entryway, flapping his hands. “Hey,” she greeted. The dude looked haggard. Like, more than normal, and normal was haggard as fuck. “What’s up with you?”

“Wedding shit, Dee! You ever planned a wedding? It’s goddamn crazy! Did you know that you have to sign paperwork?”

“What?”

“After the vows! There’s, like, signing and documents. When did everything become so goddamn commercial, you know? So I’m not married unless I confirm it with the state? It’s crazy how many rules there are. Like, say I wanted to get married out in nature, with like, deers and stuff. Now I find out I can’t, because those don’t count as witnesses. Why not? They witnessed the event! And don’t get me started on whatever the fuck a tux is. Spoiler, it’s different from a suit. And would you please tell your brother to call me back?”

Dee let out a loud guffaw. “The only reason anybody even gets married is to scam their way to some lower taxes. How did you think that worked without paperwork?”

Charlie let out a long sigh. “I don’t know, Dee, I assumed I could deal with that when I filed my taxes.”

“You don’t pay taxes!”

“Exactly! So why do I need to sign goddamn paperwork at my wedding to make them easier?”

Dee rolled her eyes. “You’re shit out of luck with Dennis, by the way. I haven’t spoken to him in, like, a year.”

“Goddamnit!” Charlie cried. “Mac won’t pick up either.”

Dee’s was already looking over his shoulder at the doors to the tasting room. “Why does everyone in this town only have two fucking friends?”

Charlie grimaced. “I don’t know, but would you please try calling him again? I don’t know if they don’t get service in North Dakota or something, but it better either be that or that they’re both dead.”

He wandered off, muttering something inane to himself, and Dee continued into the building. She already knew she wasn’t going to call Dennis. She didn’t owe Charlie shit. She saw him sometimes, of course. Back in high school, he had been Mac’s best friend, meaning that when Dennis and Mac began whatever bullshit had lasted until the present day, Charlie had tagged along. Dennis had always claimed the game room for them, forcing Dee, Ingrid, and the Waitress into the basement.

A year and a half ago, Dennis had announced the existence of her nephew and taken off to North Dakota. Under a month later, Mac had followed. Dee had been left alone.

That was when she decided the world just didn’t make sense.

\--

It was late. It was the rare sleepover at the Waitress’ home, instead of Dee’s, and it was just the two of them. Ingrid had been sick or something. Dee didn’t remember. The whole memory was like a blurry slideshow, maybe truth and maybe dream. 

All Dee remembered was that it had been late, and the two of them had been lying on her bed, in her cramped room in her even more cramped apartment. Dee had liked her room, though; it was cozy, and the walls were covered with tacked up photos of the three of them and the Waitress’ cats and torn-out magazine spreads of lit up cities. Dee remembered thinking that the Waitress looked pretty, in dim light. She didn’t look the way she did at school, depressed and exhausted and scribbled over. Instead, she couldn’t stop smiling.

Dee remembered wanting to kiss her, remembered the want thrumming its way through her veins, remembered the words kiss me, kiss me, kiss me echoing off the walls of her mind.

Dee thought about leaning forward and then thought about what would happen if the Waitress leaned away. She lose her for sure. Ingrid, probably. And once word got out that she was a dyke, Dee could kiss any vestige of high school comfort that she had left goodbye.

Dee watched the way the moonlight streamed through the window and bounced off the Waitress’ hair, and when she laughed, Dee leaned forward and brushed it out of her face and didn’t kiss her.

\--

Dee stomped in and fell into a seat. She almost didn’t realize that the Waitress was sitting next to her until she caught a flash of blonde hair in her peripheral vision.

“Dee?”

“Hey!” Dee turned, and instantly shot a hand up to brush through her hair. The Waitress looked pretty. Worn out but pretty. More surprisingly, however, she looked different. Dee realized suddenly that she had been picturing the Waitress as the same girl she had known in high school for just shy of 22 years. The ghost of that girl lingered in the woman in front of her, but she was undeniably different. Her face was sharper, more defined, with more lines. Her hair was shorter. Her hand, when it reached out and brushed Dee’s shoulder, was newly calloused.

The Waitress smiled at her. It was not a grin, just a simple show of relief, and Dee felt herself lose her grip. She was standing on the farthest edge of a cliff she had been pacing for years. One wrong move, one look down, and she would surely tumble in.

“Thanks for being here,” the Waitress said.

Dee’s mouth was dry. “No problem.”

At that moment, Charlie stormed in, still ranting about wildlife in the wedding party. When the Waitress turned to him, her whole body stiffened. “Charlie,” she said. “Sit down.”

He grumbled something and sunk into the seat next to her.

Dee wanted to say anything that would regain the Waitress’ attention, but an employee emerged and began explaining the forthcoming tasting menu, and the Waitress diverted her attention toward her.

Through the rest of the afternoon, the Waitress kept directing questions at no one in particular, musing over whether a particular flavor were better than another. Dee did her best to answer, to spite Ingrid, at least. (Though secretly she agreed with Charlie, when he declared that they all tasted the same, and frankly, so did grocery store sheet cake. That wasn’t to say that these were bad; just that sheet cake was really underrated, and why didn’t they just get sheet cake?)

When all the samples were crumbs on the plates, and the Waitress had tentatively settled on some raspberry chocolate thing, the Waitress saw them off. She pulled Dee into an unexpected hug, and her hands were still on Dee’s arms when she said, “Dress shopping this Saturday.”

Dee could have sworn her grip tightened slightly. She couldn’t do anything but say yes.

\--

It was the night of graduation, and Dennis had gotten her into a party. Or at least, he had miraculously gotten himself into a party, and Dee had nosed in.

Dee couldn’t believe it had taken her until the very last night to get into one, but she had. A real party. The kind with beer, and weed, and loud music. The kind that was overflowing with people, meaning that whatever Dee did, it was cool and not pathetic.

The Waitress kept calling her. Dee’s phone rang and rang in her back pocket, and she kept having to grab it and snap it shut.

Dennis took off in the Range Rover around one, yelling something at her about how Mac and Charlie wanted to smash shit at the train tracks. That meant that when Dee left the party two hours later, she had had to walk home. She held her heels in one hand. Her feet ached, and at one point she was pretty sure she had stepped in broken glass. Her dress was covered in spilled beer. She was intoxicated, and she had spent the night being rejected and laughed at. She felt free for the first time in years. 

The Waitress was sitting on her porch with her arms crossed. She stood up when she saw Dee approaching. “Where were you?” she demanded. “We said we would celebrate. I wanted to see you.”

Dee wondered if the Waitress ever listened to herself. She couldn’t, right? There was no way she could know how stupid she sounded. As though they were going to spend the last day of high school ever having another one of their endless sleepovers.

Apparently she was quiet for a beat too long, because the Waitress continued, “Is this how it’s gonna be? We’re out of the woods and you dump me, just like that?”

The words went by Dee too fast to make sense. “I went to a party,” she said.

“No shit.”

“Dude,” said Dee. “It was so -- you don’t even get it. It was amazing. I’m never gonna see any of those assholes again.”

“Or me, apparently.”

Dee felt hollow. “What?”

“I can’t believe I thought you’d still give a shit. After you left.”

Dee thought about telling her that the concept of not giving a shit about her was so foreign as to be unfathomable. She told her the only words she knew that even approached the same sentiment: “You’re a fucking bitch.” It wasn’t angry, just a dull fact, the same as when she said, “You’re drunk.”

The Waitress laughed, short and cruel. “And you’re what, sober?”

Dee held out a hand. “Goddamn share. Jesus.”

The Waitress gave her a reproachful look but handed her the bottle anyway.

Dee took a long drink. It must have been long, because when she looked up, the Waitress’ anger had all but melted away.

Suddenly, the Waitress told her, “I’m leaving.”

The words hung in the cold air, and Dee thought she could almost see them, hanging between them. She wished she could snatch them away, hide them, so she could pretend they’d never been said at all.

The Waitress had other ideas. She just kept speaking, faster and faster, a boulder down a hill. Dee was too paralyzed to step out of the way. “I mean it. I know I didn’t get into a fancy college like you. But I can’t stay. I’m gonna go to New York. Get a job. Or something.” She wasn’t looking at Dee. She was looking at something distant in the sky behind her. She was almost smiling.

The Waitress was talking too fast. Her words registered too slow. Dee couldn’t make sense of them. Dee was rich. Dee got into an Ivy League. Dee was staying in Pennsylvania. How dare the Waitress try to win such an impossible contest? How dare she leave?

Dee wanted to yell. She wanted to slap her. Instead, she lowered the bottle, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and said, “That sucks.”

The Waitress’ face fell.

Dee shook her head. She tightened her grip around the neck of the bottle and took a step closer to the Waitress. The sun was rising behind her, coloring the whole sky a soft orange. The Waitress had always looked her best in dim light.

Dee rested a hand against the Waitress’ cheek, leaned in, and kissed her. She pulled back just long enough to register the comprehension, the happiness, on the other woman’s face. Then, she stepped back, threw the now-empty bottle on the grass, and didn’t stop walking until she was through the doors and at her bed, where she promptly fell asleep.

And just like that, they got the summer.

\--

The dress shop Ingrid had rented out was the same one in which Dee shopped on weekends. But not even the dirty looks of its employees could ruin her afternoon. There was a tray of snacks and non-alcoholic champagne (Dee spiked hers) and within half an hour she was pleasantly buzzed. The rest of the activity consisted of reclining in plush chairs, watching the Waitress emerge continually from a dressing room, and passing judgement.

The Waitress kept sweeping out of the dressing room in awful contenders. Too short, too long, too beaded, too neon. Dress after dress Dee and Ingrid waved away.

“How’s this?” The Waitress asked, emerging in a particularly hideous number, complete with a battery pack and fairy lights.

“That looks like shit,” said Ingrid.

Dee threw her head back laughing.

Ingrid stood up, setting down her glass and crossing to a rack of dresses, carding through them carefully. “Alright,” she said, “despite your best efforts, we do want to find a dress today.”

As she looked, disappearing farther and farther into the rows of white, the Waitress sunk into her vacated seat. She looked over at Dee. “This really is ugly, isn't it?”

“You look like a slutty Christmas tree,” said Dee. “And not in the fun way.”

The Waitress fingered the hem of the dress. “Maybe I should wear this then. That sounds like the kind of thing Charlie would like.”

Dee snorted. “Yeah, I don't see him complaining. I think he likes shiny things. Like a crow.”

“Maybe I should just dip myself in cheese before the ceremony.”

Dee laughed so hard, she almost didn’t notice the Waitress’ hand, how she rested it on Dee’s bare thigh. 

A momentary warmth only. Just as Dee’s laugh trailed off, Ingrid returned, a bundle folded in her hands. “Go try this one.”

She sunk back in her chair as the Waitress left to try it in on.

When she came back out, Ingrid smiled knowingly. “I thought so,” she said.

Dee didn’t say anything.

She recognized the dress. She had tried it on several times. It was off-the-shoulder, down to the floor. There was delicate lace on the bodice. It fit the Waitress better than it had ever fit Dee.

And suddenly Dee remembered that this wasn’t the first time she had pictured the Waitress in a wedding dress. In high school and for years after, she had wondered what the Waitress would look like in a dress just like that one.

Dee fell off the cliff.

“You really like it?” asked the Waitress.

“You look beautiful,” replied Ingrid.

“Okay,” said the Waitress. “Then I guess this is it. This was one of the last things I had to do before the wedding.”

Dee sat up. “Wait, wait,” she said. “What about the bachelorette party?”

The Waitress waved a hand, twisting around to look at the back of the dress. “Oh, I’m not having one of those.”

“What?” demanded Dee, grip tightening on the arm of her chair. “That’s like the best part! I’m throwing you one.”

\--  
Dee tucked her hands under her head. She was lying on the grass on Penn’s quad. It was one of the first truly warm days all year, and nothing was going to ruin her growing tan.

Not even Dennis’ incessant chatter.

“Charlie said he saw the Waitress back in Philly.”

Dee played with the frames of her sunglasses. “She only had that job for one summer,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Where’d he see her?” she asked.

“Some coffeeshop,” he replied. “You should call her. I’m sure she’ll want to see how well you’re doing.” He burst out laughing, as though his own joke came as such a surprise.

“When was the last time you spoke to Mac?”

That, at least, seemed to shut him up.

\--

Ingrid caught Dee’s arm on the sidewalk as she was leaving. Dee shook her off harshly. “What do you want?”

“I know I’ve been cold to you,” Ingrid said. “But you know why, right? I’d like to be your friend, Dee. But you broke her heart. And mine. You just… left, and you never said anything. So be careful with her, alright?” She looked at her, clearly waiting for some deep response.

“Does she love Charlie?” asked Dee instead. “You apparently see her all the time so. Should they be getting married?”

Ingrid shrugged. “Sometimes you just gotta let people do their own thing.”

\--

“No alcohol, fine,” said Artemis. “But strippers are cool, right?”

Dee shrugged, eyes on her phone. “Sure, go to town.”

\--

Dee was enjoying the cold, and the cigarette, the smooth smoke filling her lungs, the grey against the black sky, when the Waitress slammed open the door and met her in the street.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asked. “I wanted something nice. And you threw me a party in some grimy club filled with strippers and coke and alcohol and organized by a woman I’ve never met who I’m pretty sure is fucking someone in the dumpster outback.”

“That’s my father,” Dee muttered.

“What?”

"Not important.”

“I can’t believe I thought -- I can’t believe you. I let you back into my life and you haven’t matured at all. So…” The Waitress shrugged her shoulders. “Goodbye.”

Dee whipped around. The Waitress was just standing there, looking like she might cry. “Are you serious? You’ve matured? You still live here, you have the same shitty job as me, you just don’t have any fun. You’re marrying goddamn Dirtgrub.”

“Yes, Dee!” the Waitress yelled. “I am marrying goddamn Dirtgrub. Do you know what I need?” All the fight suddenly left her voice, leaving her almost pleading. “I need people, Dee, that’s all I’ve ever needed. And people look right goddamn through me, so maybe I decided to be with the one person who never treats me like a consolation prize.”

“I --” Dee started. “I didn’t.” She didn’t mean for it to sound so much like a question.

The Waitress balled up her fists. “Really, Dee? You didn’t treat me like a consolation prize? You used me for one summer and the second you could leave, you did. And you forgot all about me.”

“I didn’t --” Dee tried, “I never _forgot_ \--”

The Waitress interrupted, “Do you even know my fucking name?”

“What?”

“You haven’t called me by name once since I asked you to be in your wedding."

In her scramble to answer, Dee said the only thing she could think of. “Are you sure?”

The Waitress’ brow furrowed. “Sure of what?”

“Charlie.” Dee let out a cruel laugh. “Are you sure he knows your name?”

The Waitress looked at her for a long second. Then she marched to her car and peeled away.

\--

Dee woke up with a hell of a hangover and a dozen missed calls. She put the phone to her ear without checking the caller id. She hoped it was her boss. “What the fuck do you want?”

“A ride from the goddamn airport, if you must know, but apparently you were too lazy to pick up the phone, so instead I paid the ridiculous cab fee --”

Dee sat up. She interrupted, “You’re back in Philly?”

Dennis let out a long sigh, as though her stupidity was some great burden. “Yes, Dee, we’re back in Philly. Quite frankly it was going to be depressing if Charlie didn’t have any groomsmen at his wedding.”

Before she could stop herself, Dee said, “Can you come over?”

“What?”

“To my place, dumbass. I need to start drinking again or this hangover’s gonna kill me.”

Another sigh. “Fine.”

\--

Dennis showed up pounding on her door with the exact rumpled, disoriented look to be expected of a man who had just gotten off of a cross-country flight. Dee let him in, and he promptly collapsed on her couch. She crossed to the fridge, grabbing him a cold beer and avoiding the forthcoming conversation for an extra ten seconds.

He accepted the beer without comment. As he twisted off the cap, he looked her up and down, taking in the wrinkled pajamas and the bottle of whiskey she was gripping tightly. “This is a good look for you, two in the afternoon.”

Dee sunk down onto the couch.. “Like you’re any fucking better.”

Dennis took a long swig of the beer. “Guess not.”

“So how’s…” Dee mulled it over for a long moment, and she still couldn’t come up with which one. “Dakota?”

Dennis started telling some long, involved story about Brian Jr. It wasn’t the most annoying background drinking noise she had ever heard.

“So,” he said finally, smirking, “Heard you got canned.”

“What? No I didn’t.” Although this was another good reminder that she hadn’t gone to work in three days. Something worth looking into, probably.

Dennis waved a hand. “I meant from the wedding. You know, it’s actually impressive. There was a time I couldn’t get the Waitress off my dick. And now she’s marrying Charlie, for Christ’s sake. It’s kind of cool to know she’s got a bar.”

Dee leaned farther back into the couch and took another sip. “I invited you over here so we could drink and talk about literally anything else.”

She snuck a look sideways at Dennis and her stomach dropped. He was looking her the strangest look, a look that said he absolutely did not intend to drop it, and it was only a moment before his eyes widened and he sat up a little straighter. She hated his expression. It was one she saw every three years, give or take, when lightning struck and granted him the power to give a shit.

“Dee, you goddamn bitch. No. Holy shit, no. Do not tell me you are still in love with her."

Dee did her best to scoff. “I was never in love with her."

“No,” he said, “in high school, you were in love with her. Jesus, you wouldn’t shut up about her. And I begged, Dee. Begged. Plus you lezzed it up for that whole Summer.”

Dee almost choked on her drink. “You know about that?”

“Everybody knew about that.” He grimaced. “Look. We both know that Charlie isn’t really in love with her, and unless she’s gotten a steel pipe through the brain she sure as hell isn’t in love with him.”

“So?”

Dennis raised one eyebrow. “So is she in love with you?”

Dee thought about the way the Waitress had smiled when she sat down next to her, like she could finally catch her breath. She thought about the Waitress sitting next to her in the dress shop, the way she had laughed at Dee’s jokes and rested her hand on Dee’s thigh. She thought about the way she had yelled in the parking lot, voice almost breaking, the words _I can’t believe I thought_ \--

Finally, Dee said, voice almost breaking, “She might be.”

“Well then.”

After a minute, Dennis took another sip and stood up, waving a hand. “I’m gonna go make sure Mac hasn’t gotten Charlie in a car accident or convinced him to slick back his hair or something. You…” he looked at her thoughtfully. “What have you got to lose?”

\--

By the time Dee got into her dress, did her hair, threw up, and managed to drive her way to the venue, the wedding was already underway. She threw open the doors to the church and took in the scene. There weren’t many people there, maybe fifteen including the wedding party. There was the priest. There was Charlie. And there was the Waitress, looking so crisp and clean and beautiful in spite of her mussed up hair and red-rimmed eyes. Every one of them turned their eyes toward Dee, except for Dennis, who seemed to be valiantly pretending he didn’t know her.

Ingrid dropped her bouquet and walked down the aisle in long strides, stopping just in front of her and whispering harshly, “Dee, seriously. You need to drop this.”

Dee waved her away. “I’m in the middle of something, bitch! God.”

Ingrid grimaced, shaking her head. “Fine.” She turned to address the rest of the crowd and said, “I tried to stop it. You all saw me.” She stalked back up to her position, picking up the flowers.

“So uh…” Dee glanced around the hall, eyes landing on the priest. “Have you guys done the objection part yet or…?”

“Oh, you’re fine!” called Artemis, who was sitting in the front row. “They’ve barely started.”

Charlie’s mother, who was seated next to her for some reason, swatted at her arm. “Don’t help her.”

“Shut up, Bonnie,” muttered Mrs. Mac. “Something interesting is finally happening.”

Dee heard Father Mara lean over to Mac and mutter, “Is that Dee Reynolds?”

Dee sunk into the nearest pew, rolling her eyes. She waved the procession on. “Keep going. I’ll just wait I guess.”

The Waitress whispered something to Father Mara that Dee couldn’t make out. She leaned away, and he continued the ceremony, albeit with many more awkward pauses. The Waitress walked back down the aisle toward Dee, head held high, and sank into the booth.

Dee turned to her. “Don’t marry Charlie,” she whispered.

The Waitress frowned. “That’s it? You show up to stop my wedding and that’s all you have to say?” Anger crept into her tone.

“He --” Dee faltered for words. “He’s so creepy. He’s been obsessed with you since high school. He stalked you.”

The Waitress crossed her arms. “Do you think I don’t know that? Try harder.”

“He practically lives in the sewers. He’s always talking about dead birds and trash.”

“Again, I know.”

Dee threw up her hands, whispered, “Well, if you know all that shit, why are you marrying him?”

“I told you!” cried the Waitress. “He listens to me! He cares about me!”

“And do you think no one else will?”

“No one has yet!”

Dee took a long, shaky breath. “Your name is Ella,” she whispered finally. “I used to call you Elle in high school. You were my best friend. And when I went to Penn, I dodged your calls because every time we spoke it made me want to drop everything to see you.”

The Waitress looked at her for long time.

“I’m sorry,” Dee added.

Slowly, the Waitress nodded. Then, she said, “I only asked you to be in my wedding so I could see you again.” She looked away, staring resolutely ahead at the brideless wedding.

Suddenly, her face not changing an inch , she grabbed Dee’s hand.

Dee held on tight.

“Um,” Father Mara said after a moment, raising his voice and glancing back at them. “You know, most modern weddings don’t have this part. But I get the sense it may be relevant here so… if anyone has a reason why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Dee shot up, pulling the Waitress with her. “I do, bitch!” she called, laughing.

“Same objection!” yelled the Waitress.

The two turned and ran out of the church.

\--

Ella quickly realized she had left some things in the back room and ran back in to get them. Dee didn’t feel particularly motivated to follow, so she sank onto the curb under the hot sun and drank from her emergency wedding flask. (Artemis had sewn a hidden pocket into her bridesmaid dress; Dee was really going to have to send her a gift basket or something, once this whole ordeal was over.)

It was maybe five minutes later that Charlie stuck his head out through the front doors. “Hey,” he said. “Could we talk for a sec?”

Dee looked over her shoulder. “Charlie, if you’re going to try and fight me, I’ll remind you that I have forty years of barely repressed rage and a lot of adrenaline right now.”

Charlie let the church doors swing shut, walking toward her with his hands in his pockets. “Do you ever, like, chill out? For even like, a day?”

He sat down next to her, raising one arm to rub at the back of his neck. “It’s okay, you know.”

Dee rested the flask in her lap and her elbows on her knees, turning toward him. “What, seriously? I’m stealing your fucking fiancée and you’re cool with it?” Dee felt suddenly angry, everything she had resented about Charlie in the past weeks bubbling up at once. 

“It wasn’t…” Charlie shrugged. “We only got together like four months ago.” He waved a hand. “There was this whole baby thing. But it wasn’t -- it wasn’t what I thought it was gonna be. She was, like, really into the wedding planning? And I wasn’t. And I started to think, like, she seems more into the wedding planning than the actual getting married . And then I realized that we don’t even really have fun together. So…” He shrugged. “You know. We’re cool.”

Dee shook her head. “Jesus. I can’t believe you. You obsess over this woman for thirty goddamn years, and then you get all sad because it’s a little worse than what you thought? Do you even get how goddamn lucky you were? And you just --”

“Woah, Dee, slow down. It’s chill, all right? She wants to be with you. Honestly, it sounds like you’re doing way better with the whole obsessing thing than me.”

“That’s not it. You don’t get to act like -- like you’re above her. Like --”

Charlie shook his head, looking down at the pavement. “I’m not… God, Dee. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth or whatever. Cause you know, gifted horses, like, the really smart ones don’t take kindly to that. They’ll bite off your nose.” He sighed. “Her real name’s Eleanor. Not a lot of people know that. I used to put vitamins in her shampoo, you might consider doing that. And I kept away rats, that sort of thing.” He fell silent and watched her in that specific, unblinking way he had. “Have a good life,” he told her.

Dee swallowed. “You know it’s not like we’re moving, right? I’ll see you again.”

He shrugged. “I know. Your twin brother and I are actually about to go get hammered. Speaking of, by the way, I’m pretty sure Mac’s coming to take you down. He and Dennis were having some conversation about the bro code vs. the gay code? I didn’t really get it, but you might want to prep for that.”

Dee nodded. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

Charlie stood and brushed himself off. “No problem.”

\--

“So,” said Ella, when she exited the building a few minutes later, “are you gonna help me get out of this dress?”

Dee stepped forward and kissed her, and suddenly, the world made a little more goddamn sense.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "If You Love Someone" by The Veronicas.


End file.
